


Another Door Opens

by Shaye



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Future, Married Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 08:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12980010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaye/pseuds/Shaye
Summary: When Christmas plans go awry...





	Another Door Opens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dustie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustie/gifts).



She wakes up to a grumbling Toby. Well, he’s more than grumbling, but it’s too early for her to put much stock into it. “What lit a fire under your ass?” she asks, groaning into her pillow. She peeks open an eye, glancing at the clock. She’s right: it’s entirely too early for her to be up, let alone for him to be angry about anything.

 

He, however, ignores her and she knows it must be bad. He has never been one to ignore her. The only time she can remember that happening was when he tried to “quit her.” She had heard it. Factual and detached as he told Sylvester of his plan, his plight. It stings to remember it. Like an open wound she cannot close fast enough. Soon, though, she clears her head from the traitorous thoughts—that was years ago. “Toby?” she asks again. He doesn’t stop glaring, obviously listening to someone on the other end. It makes her feel a little better to know she’s not the cause of this.

 

So instead of catching a few more minutes of sleep, she rolls out of bed, a throw blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She catches a glimpse of her husband’s lips tugging up at the corners as he watches her, but there’s something in his eyes, something not quite right.

 

She tries to think through the day before, the last few days, the last week, going further and further back in time as nothing seems to make sense. She hates this, the not knowing part. She hates not seeing the connections. Her shower lasts a few extra minutes because of her distraction, not that she notices. Toby, however, does, walking in a few minutes later asking her if she’s alright. She supposes it’s normal after so much time, to know each other’s routines. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

 

“You’re always thinking,” he says, and she hears the lilt in his voice. She nods even though he can’t see her.

 

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

 

She hears him mumble his assent before gently closing the door. She feels the trapped steam billow around her and takes a moment to breathe. Then she quickly rinses the conditioner out of her hair and shuts off the faucet, toweling off.

 

Within the next five minutes, she walks out in her knotted towel, her hair straight after the thorough brushing. She quietly walks over to the dresser, pulling some sweats and a t-shirt from the confines. “Are you okay?” Toby asks, still looking out the window. It’s a dreary day—miserable really—but he seems captivated by the rain drops gracing the glass.

 

She turns. “Yeah.” She drops the clothes for a moment, taking a seat by his side on the bed. “Are _you_?” she asks.

 

“No, not really.” He doesn’t try to hide his disappointment. Her stomach drops in the second it takes him to grab her hands. He looks into her eyes, his eyes full of regret. “We can’t go to Cancun.” He says it so low, so full of pain, his thumb running up and down her hand in such a show of comfort, that she feels that she’s missed something.

 

“We can’t go to Cancun,” she repeats.

 

“Yeah.” He sighs, his shoulders drooping. “I’m so sorry.”

 

She shakes her head, disentangling her hand in the process. He seems to fall further into himself at that and she’s quick to reassure him, moving her hand to his shoulder. She rubs there, leaning in closer so that her quiet words reach his ears.

 

“Is there more?”

 

“Isn’t that enough?”

 

She sighs, settling into his side, her chin resting on his shoulder. “It’s okay, it’s just a trip.”

 

He looks at her, shaking his head. “It’s not just a trip! It’s our long-forgotten honeymoon.”

 

She breathes out a sigh. “I know.” She smiles. “But I guess worse things could happen—have happened,” she corrects. “We’ll get our chance.”

 

They sit in silence for another few minutes before Toby drops his head to lean on hers. “Is it okay if I’m really upset because of this?” She nods, not having the words to affirm it for him. They stay like that for a while, both breathing deeply, staring out at the unusually morose California weather, until a knock at the door shakes them out of their slump.

 

Toby gets up to check, walking slowly, as Happy closes the bedroom door and pulls on her forgotten clothes. When she finally joins him, she’s surprised to see the entire team there, her father standing among them. She pulls him into a hug, still unaccustomed to him being back from prison, before asking the question. “What’re you all doing here?”

 

“We came to surprise you!” Paige says, her hands clasped in front of her. “Before you leave. We couldn’t celebrate Christmas without you.” The others nod in agreement.

 

“Oh, about that,” Happy says as Toby scratches the back of his neck, “we’re not going.”

 

“What? Why?” Paige asks. Happy shrugs before Toby launches into a heated retelling of the airline’s words.

 

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” Cabe says, patting Happy on the back.

 

“Me too,” Toby says in her place.

 

They all mull round for a moment, unsure of how to proceed, before Sylvester says, “It’d be a shame to waste all this food.” He motions to the bags set down behind them. “And it is still Christmas Eve.” Happy smiles gratefully at him, appreciating his offer to be with them, to help pull Toby out of his funk.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day goes swimmingly, no one rushing because there’s no plane to catch. It feels peaceful even though the change of plans was last minute.

 

Nevertheless, Toby is still hiding behind a forced smile hours after the fact and she knows she has to do something. She pulls him inside their bedroom, not bothering to close the door. “What can I do to help?”

 

“Can you put us on a plane to tropical paradise?”

 

“Anything short of that.”

 

“I just wanted to go. Didn’t you?” he asks and she hears the slight hurt in his tone.

 

“I know, I know,” Happy is quick to correct his misjudgment. “I really wanted to go, too.” She takes his hands in hers in a way that has become familiar. “But we’re here now,” she says it easily, squeezing his hands a little tighter. “And I couldn’t be happier.”

 

He looks up to meet her eyes, surprised. She chuckles. “I wanted to have the honeymoon we never got, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s good to be with family too.” She looks over his shoulder, out their bedroom door, their friends chatting aimlessly. She sees Sylvester teaching Ralph a new magic trick and Walter holding Paige ever so delicately. She sees Cabe patting her dad on the back, welcoming his home and commemorating their friendship. “I never got that,” she says distractedly.

 

He turns to see her exact vision, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Somehow he knows what she means to say; he always does. “Yeah, it’s nice to have a family for the holidays.” And she knows what he means, too: it’s nice to have a family, period. They found each other battered and bruised, built the foundation of their friendship on their mutual hurts. But she realizes now that the pain was never what bound them. It was their strength, their strength together, their strength in happiness, that led them to where they are today. In an overcrowded apartment with laughter and love, hiding in their bedroom for a few minutes on their own.

 

“You’re amazing, you know that, right?” Toby asks, pulling back to stare into her warm eyes, his arms still wrapped loosely around her waist. She chuckles, looking down as she blushes ever so slightly. It’s alarming, she thinks, how comfortable she’s become in his presence. She used to think she was vulnerable when they were engaged, but it was never like this. She wasn’t open then, not really. She thinks about all the work they did to get to this place. All the counseling and confronting of fears, all the tiny steps forward. She thinks about the first time she said “I love you.” How it was cold and she was freezing as the ocean waves licked at her feet. The feel of the sand squishing between her toes. Toby’s strong presence, holding her in place, her chest pressed against his. How she didn’t think about the other people who could see them, didn’t give a thought to the roll of her stomach as his fingertips ghosted over her arms. All she knew was him and his breath, his lips pressed against hers, insistently but also delicately. And when he pulled back, his eyes languid and soft, she breathed the words that she’d been terrified of for so long. She remembers his smile, tender and whole, before he pulled her back in for another breathless kiss. It was her new favorite smile.

 

“You may have mentioned it once or twice,” she jokes. He tickles her sides at the remark, trying to coax a giggle out of her, which happens rarely, but is still possible. And she remembers the first time it happened. The sound foreign on her lips, a weird texture on her tongue. He had been dotting her face with kisses, his eyelashes fluttering against her skin when it happened. A bubbling, tinkling sound uncaring of its prior disuse. She talked about it later that week with her therapist, alarmed by the innocent thing. She didn’t know what to make of it, how to deal with all the emotions that little sound brought on. All the fear, all the vulnerability, it terrified her. But now she supposes her therapist was right—the best things in life are always a little scary.

 

He’s unsuccessful this time around, but her fingers pulling at the curls at the nape of his neck make it all worthwhile.

 

“You should open your present.”

 

“Hap, it’s still Christmas Eve.”

 

“I know,” she looks down at her hands, examining them as to avoid looking in his eyes. “But I don’t want to wait. I think you need it.” He chuckles, amused as she slides out of his arms and grabs a small box from her neatly packed suitcase. He’s surprised she is so eager to share—he was always more excited about presents than she was.

 

She holds it out, wrapped neatly in his favorite snowman wrapping paper, and tentatively smiles. He takes it easily, taking note of the lightness of the box. When he unwraps it., he is greeted with a thin box, held together by a small top. “You wrapped this one up real good,” he says, knowing her tendency to forgo the wrapping and just hand him his present. She can only nod.

 

His lips quirk a little to the side as he carefully lifts the top of the box, but it’s no use. His breath has already caught, his mind racing, as he meets her eyes. She’s smiling, a real smile she reserves for only the best of occasions, her eyes alight with happiness. And he knows, even through the tears clouding his vision, that this is the happiest they’ve ever been. In this moment, with the two of them and a delicate metal rattle, nothing could be more perfect.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Merry Christmas!


End file.
